


Indeterminate

by willowcabins



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: "an artifact made us forget everything! ahahah isn't LIFE GREAT", F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka Bering likes the rhythm; she likes the fragile predictability of her day. Shaking it, even ever so slightly, annoys her; the world should adjust itself to her rhythm, and when it refuses to, jarring her, she feels unsettled for the rest of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indeterminate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes I am back from a year of school and I am WRITING AGAIN. also, this is TOTALLY not some fluff to make me feel better about the dumb finale hahahah WHY WOULD I DO THAT hahahahaa.

Myka Bering is a secret service agent. She wakes up every morning at 0512, goes running and then goes to work. She is always out of the door by 0631. Myka catches the 0633 bus and arrives in front of the skyscraper that houses the secret service at 0654. Myka steps through the secret service office into the lobby of the building at 0701, nods at Clarence the security guard and is in the elevator by 0702. Normally the elevator shuts and she is alone; she gets out on the thirtieth floor and she is in her office at 0707.

Myka Bering likes the rhythm; she likes the fragile predictability of her day. Shaking it, even ever so slightly, annoys her; the world should adjust itself to her rhythm, and when it refuses to, jarring her, she feels unsettled for the rest of the day.

 

Today, her order is destroyed by a burly suited man who barrels into the elevator at the last possible moment. "Ah thank GOD I made it," he pants with a grin at Myka. The doors shut and Myka purses her lips.

"Hectic morning?" she asks dryly. He doesn't hear the edge to her voice and just grins at her, nodding.

"Yeah." He ruffles his hair and adjusts his tie nervously. "My three year old wanted to join the secret service to miss Kindergarden. Tantrums ensued when I told her that was not gonna happen for a WHILE yet." Myka nods politely; like all proud parents, he takes this as an invitation to continue. "She's very driven, you know?" Myka has gotten good at listening to people talk about their children without really _hearing_ them. Sometimes when she is feeling very frustrated and oppressed she blames incessant chatter on her femininity; she is a woman, so people think she _wants_ to hear about their little cherubs. She does not.

She doesn't want to hear about this stranger’s three year old and her habit to study "crime scenes" established by her younger brother. Thank god the doors open; it is the thirtieth floor. Myka is only 3 minutes behind schedule.

Myka's relief is tempered as the man steps out with her. "Your part of the secret service's logistics unit?" She asks, genuinely taken aback. The man grins at her and holds out his hand.

"As of today, yes! My name is Agent Pete Lattimer."

"Agent Myka Bering."

"Myka," he repeats with a grin. "What a great name." He is grinning and Myka feels like he's making a joke with her, letting her in on an insider that she doesn't _quite_ understand. She just smiles uncertainly and swipes her ID card, holding the door open for him. He steps through. "I have to go see my new boss. Eula Wiley told me to go see.."

"Eula? You used to work in Denver?" Myka remembers Eula. Eula had been her co-worker; they had been great friends. She had been the one to push for Myka's promotion to DC. They had fallen out of touch since Myka had moved though; the last time she had seen Eula was at that funeral. Agent Lattimer does not let Myka dwell on those unpleasant memories as he interrupt her with his cheerful glee, bounding through the door.

"Yeah! Just moved here last week! Who knew the capital was so crowded? And real estate so expensive!" Myka gives him a thin lipped smile.

"It’s true,” she concedes. “I worked in Denver up until 3 years ago," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh! I thought you looked familiar!

“We have never met before.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I thought you looked familiar.”

“We have never met.”

“Oh, well. Shame we didn't know each other then! We should totally rectify that! But first, can you point me in the direction of Dickinson, though?"

"Of course -- last office on your left."

By the time Myka gets to her office she is almost six minutes off schedule, but oddly enough she doesn’t feel _quite_ as unsettled as she should have.

 

Myka does not have a partner; normal Secret Service protocol would require her to have one, but Myka has burnt through five different partners since she came to Washington, and not a single one of them stuck. So the higher ups let her be; she works better alone anyway.

Next week, the President will be delivering a speech in the biggest Public Library in DC. The speech will encourage young people to read and old people to invest in their communities by reading more; a boring tale. The president, however, has never made a speech in this public library before. There is no blueprint for Myka to follow in this new building. She is completely in charge.

The logistics of securing the space are new and different and complicated; the library's structure make the president's safety and incredibly complicated affair if one doesn’t want to shut the library down; the secretary of the state already nixed that, claiming it would be a politically reckless move.

It’s a puzzle, and one that Myka enjoys. She set up the map on her table and begins to organised the positions in her mind. Soon she breaks out her coloured pencils and begins color coding different sectors of the library. She is lost in her thoughts, absorbed in her planning, when Dickinson knocks on her door and enters uninvited.

"Myka," he greets her with a smile. She doesn’t return it.

"What?" She asks, impatient and annoyed. Agent Lattimer peeks out from behind Dickinson and waves a little.

"I am here to introduce you to your new partner."

"What?" Myka is not impressed.

"The higher ups made an executive decision on this one; they think your talents and Mr Lattimer's talents are uniquely matched." Myka crosses her arms and assumes her favorite defensive stance. Dickinson _knows_ what is about to happen and flinches at her next words.

"Well, they are wrong." He sighs and shakes his head.

"I can't tell them that, Myka," he snaps. She does not take the warning of his tone to heart.

"Well, I can’t work with him,” she replies, mirroring Dickinson’s tone. “Because I can’t work with anyone,” she hurriedly adds when Pete’s face falls slightly. “I just prefer... to work…alone…” Myka’s voice fades as Dickinson’s face betrays no wavering. He simply shrugs and walks towards the door, grabbing the handle and staring between the two agents.

"Agent Bering, this is your new partner. You will use the library operation as an opportunity to train him." He closes the door resolutely, proud with how he handled that situation. He walks towards his own office, humming again.

Pete dumps his stuff down on the empty desk in the tidy and ordered room. He hoists himself up on the table and let his legs dangle obtrusively, glancing around her spacious office before letting his gaze drift back to Myka. He tilts his head.

"Are you sure we didn't meet back then, when you were in Denver?" he asks absently. Myka sighs, exasperated at him.

"I have impeccable memory, so I can assure you no, no we did not meet while I was in Denver." He shrugs and accepts it, though her still looks troubled. Myka lets him stew in silence while she checks the time. Oh shit, the security guard from the museum will be here soon. She self-consciously pats down at her dress.

"You just seem so familiar to me," Pete explains, hopping down from the desk and joining Myka at the conference table.

"Familiar?" Myka asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah!” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I just kind of feel like I know you! really well!"

"I know the definition of the word "familiar"," she replies curtly, evading his gaze. He pouts.

"Don't be angry with me!" He whines. "It’s not my fault they made me your partner." Myka smiles grimly.

"Well, who else can I direct my anger at?"

"i'unno.” He shrugs and looks around the room, as if he will find an object to absorb her anger. “The universe?"

"Very funny." Although its meant to be sarcastic, a small smile is pulling at her lips. He grins at her, and she can see he feels like succeeded. In something.

"Okay, draft me on the library situation then," he says, nodding towards the map.

"It’s simple. The president will be in a library. We need to make sure the president in the library is safe. " It was meant to be a short cryptic summary to annoy him. Myka’s short summary of the situation has the exact opposite effect on Pete though.

"The president?!” He exclaims, childish excitement saturating his voice. “Ah man I am in the BIG LEAGUES now! Just you wait until I tell Myka about this!" Myka blinks.

"Who?" She asks, tilting her head.

"My daughter, Myka!"

"Your daughter is _also_ called Myka?" Myka had never met anyone else named Myka. “It’s an unusual name…” She adds, genuinely confused.

"Yeah, I just felt like it was the best name to give her,” Pete justifies with a shrug, picking up one of the pencils on the table and beginning to fiddle with them. “I thought it was name that would keep her safe. Did your name keep you safe?"

"...I have no idea what you're talking about," Myka replies, genuinely confused by this sentimental childish burly secret service agent. She decides to change the topic. "Come over here now.” She directs his attention towards the map. “I'm going to show you how the different sectors of the library." He tilts his head to read all the names and smirks.

"Sapphire Sector?" he scoffs. "Sounds dirty to me."

"Really?" Myka can't believe this man. They are hours off schedule now (metaphorical hours, Myka amends mentally), and this man child is criticizing her naming of _her_ operation. "Just pay attention so I can tell you all the important things before the security guard from the museum arrives."

There's a knock on the door. "Or not," Myka adds under her breath. She straightens up and pulls at her blazer, closing a button again and standing next to the table nonchalantly. Pete watches her and tilts his head in confusion.

"Come in," Myka says, her voice feigning calm collection. The door opens. A young woman steps through.

"Agent Bering,” she smiles at Myka. “Agent Dickinson told me just to come straight in.

Myka smiles warmly and steps forward holding out her hand. "Hello yes, Miss Wells.” She shakes her hand. Pete watches as Miss Wells returns the smile; it is soft and private. Myka swallows, held for one second in the woman’s gaze.

“It-It's so nice to see you again,” she stutters trying to regain her composure. Pete coughs behind her, loudly, and their handshake stops. Myka bites her lip and sighs before turning around and gesturing towards him. “And This is my ... associate, Agent Lattimer."

"I'm her partner actually,” Pete corrects, bounding forward to shake Miss Wells’ hand with enthusiasm. She quirks up an eyebrow.

"Partner?" She asks, an amused smirk playing at her lips. Myka blushes.

"Yeah, here at the secret service," Pete clarifies quickly. There is a second of awkward silence, so he fills it with his enthusiasm. “I just transferred from Denver!”

“How quaint,” Miss Wells grins at Myka. Myka blushes again and looks at the table.

“Shall we start?” Myka swallows and nods.

“Yes, yes if we could. After our discussion last week these were the schematics I consider…” As Myka explains her coloured map to both Helena and Pete, Myka notices how close Helena stands next to her. She wants to complain and to step away, but finds herself unable.

Pete watches the two women talk; Myka’s hands gesture towards the map and she says “Emerald Sector.”

The way she says it, he thinks, sounds hauntingly familiar. He watches her.

He _must_ know her from somewhere…

The meeting is successful. More meetings are arranged; Pete is allowed to leave in time to pick up his daughter as Myka organises teams and picks the men she will be working with. She is in the office until unusually late, desperately trying to arrange everything so that awful nagging feeling at the back of her mind that she has forgotten _something_ disappears.

 

Myka Bering is a secret service agent. Every day she leaves the office at 1934. She drops by the Chinese take out, or sometimes the Indian, gets some food, and is always home no later than 2019. She eats, she reads, she does the crossword and then she goes to bed. Myka Bering, secret service agent, is always asleep by 2300.

Its 2302 now, and Myka Bering can’t sleep.

It’s 2303, Myka Bering’s routine has gone to shreds and she gets up because she feels unstable. Something is wrong, and she can’t decide what it is.

It’s 2305 and Myka Bering realises this isn’t the life she is meant to have.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick explanation: in my younger and more vulnerable years i watched Supernatural with my amazing friend Flo. I stopped watching it, obviously, but some of the premises of episodes have stuck with me: here we see one of them. Episode 4x17 of Supernatural, translated into a Warehouse 13 universe. Thus, if you are familiar with that episode/the show, you will know what i mean when i say THIS IS ACTUALLY CANON COMPLIANT. if not, then just take my word for it.


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